


The Memory of a Voice

by TheWritingSquid



Series: Only Thorns Left [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Based on their support and what they tell each other if they have to fight, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route Spoilers, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Church Route Spoilers, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route Spoilers, Flash Fiction, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Post-Canon, This is Feels Central Be Warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-09 22:54:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20517788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWritingSquid/pseuds/TheWritingSquid
Summary: No graves exist for Ferdinand von Aegir, whose body is but one of many left behind in the war, but a plaque has been erected for him at the Opera House, and Dorothea pays it a visit before every performance.





	The Memory of a Voice

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first of a series of flash fics entirely centered on characters have to killed their loved ones, so... expect major grieving and sadness. And we start with Dorothea and Ferdinand, since our girl's "Only thorns left on this rose" was a big drive for me writing these.

**Ferdinand von Aegir**

Every time she reads the plaque, Dorothea hears his voice. How impossible not to, when he’d seemed to proclaim his name at every opportunity. The noblest of nobles, lost to a senseless war almost six years ago. Ferdinand has no proper grave; he had been one more victim amongst many, a body on the Great Bridge of Myrddin, no doubt thrown into the Airmid River after their conquest. All he has is this plaque, installed on the Opera House of Enbarr in honour of the generous donations included in his will. Dorothea doesn’t know if she loves it, how even in death he thought of the operas of his childhood and ensured they could continue after the war, or if she hates the reminder of everything Fódlan has lost.

She clutches the stem of the orange tulip in her hand. She picks a different type of flower for each new show, always orange, always beautiful and innocent. Dorothea twirls it for a moment, then reaches for the flower itself and crushes it under her fingers. Autumn is fast approaching, and a strong breeze blows through the streets of Enbarr today. The petals scatter quickly into it as she releases them--one more tribute to the man she’d once called a bee, and who had stung her before dying for his Queen. Dorothea closes her eyes, letting the thought sink in. No tears come, not anymore, but the scar on her side still hurts.

He’d come riding into the battle, bright long hair flowing behind him, the very image of a noble knight. Fierce determination, lance held high--the stuff of operas. She’d had flames dancing across her arms, thunder crackling at her fingertips, and more deaths on her mind than she’d already cared for. Her heart had sank. She had thought--he had opposed Edelgard so often… But then he was upon her, his battalion clashing with hers, his lance coming at her even as his eyes begged her to retreat. She had scorched the ground at his horse’s feet, throwing him off, but he’d come right back to his feet. Ferdinand had never been one to give up.

_ Is that your duty as a noble_, she’d asked. _ Follow your master when they say to heel? _

The lance through her side had been a shock, but less so than the flames reflexively cast forward, or the scream of pain that had followed, raw beyond belief, yet so recognizable as Ferdinand's. 

Dorothea focuses on the plaque again, her chest tight, her hands shaky.

**Ferdinand von Aegir**

At least here, when she heard his voice, it’s in a declaration of noble pride, and not the scream of agony that will forever haunt her night.

**Author's Note:**

> The reason they're all so short is that after 500 words my heart can't take it so i just have to stop there. :']


End file.
